


Ret'urcye Mhi

by ChopsHitch



Series: House of Memories [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Din Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin has anger issues, Din is just sad, Din turns off his feelings, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Xi'an is a flirt and a tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChopsHitch/pseuds/ChopsHitch
Summary: Din leaves behind the Covert after Paz's death, in his own form of exile and mourning, not forgiving himself for Paz's death on Mandalore. He just wants one night where he can forget. Forget Paz's voice, forget his eyes and his smile. Hell, he wants to forget who he is himself.“You should stay with us, help us to rebuild.” Her voice was calm and unquestioning, as if she already knew his answer before he could speak it.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Xi’an, Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla, Din Djarin/Xi’an
Series: House of Memories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059317
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	1. Cin Vhetin

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the direction I'm taking the story in because all of this leads up to his reunion with Paz in Season 1. This is still angsty, and will probably remain that way, but this is the story about how he met Ranzar, Xi'an and Qin. I hope you guys like, even if it isn't all Paz and Din!

_“You should stay with us, help us to rebuild.” Her voice was calm and unquestioning, as if she already knew his answer before he could speak it._

_“No,” he replied as he shook his head, even with his helm modulating his voice, it still managed to sound hoarse from misuse. He wanted to explain to her that he wished that he could, that some part of him wanted to stay and belong - but that part of him was buried deep and had probably, if he was honest with himself, left along with his heart on Mandalore. He knew that she knew more than what he could offer her in words but appreciated that she never pushed him._

_“You have a home here.” The Armourer stated to him; it was kindness her voice contained. He resented how it reminded him of Paz. He felt himself nod absently, he would be welcome here, but this was not his home, it would never be a home to him. If he didn’t stay, he would have no living quarter assigned to him and he wouldn’t feel like he had been tethered somewhere he had no place being._

_“Yes.” It was easier to speak one word at a time, than try and say everything that was bubbling in his mind. He would hunt for them and return with whatever he could to help them, he would provide but he would not belong, he would be on the outskirts, be in the shadows, away from them, separate and mourning, while they allowed themselves to move on. It was fine by him, he had always expected a lonely, empty existence and the universe had granted him this. He turned to walk away from her and back to his ship, back to the stars and back to his solitude, he half expected her to stop him, to pull him back and command him to stay and was grateful when she said nothing._

_“Ret’urcye mhi.” Was all she said as he boarded his ship and sped away from them._

_And then he was alone once more._

It had been a year since he had left the Covert. Din tried to tell himself that he hadn’t _left_ and that he wasn’t _running_ but the lies felt hollow in his own mind, so he accepted, once again, that he was a coward. He knew that he had always been a coward, so he could accept this truth as easily as breathing. He knew that he couldn’t be around them, the Covert, so full of life and energy when his Paz had been killed to protect them. Occasionally, he thought of the foundling with the grey eyes and almost felt guilty at abandoning them until he remembered the way Paz’s eyes lit up when Din had kissed him. He remembered the way Paz’s eyes had lit up when he had told him his name, all those years ago. He would never have imagined then of how much a heart could break in one lifetime until he remembered he had no heart anymore, it had burned like the rest of Mandalore. He had not learned the foundlings name and decided it was better that he didn’t, she reminded him of Paz, and he didn’t need that. Not anymore. 

The year had been a lonely one; in truth, he couldn’t remember much of it, only remembering bits and pieces, like waking up with Paz’s name on his lips and forgetting for a moment Paz was gone or turning to talk to him only to find that he wasn’t there. Because he was dead. And it twisted like a knife in his gut every time and the pain did not get any better, he had heard the elders tell him that it would heal with time, when he had lost Nurink and he had thought them liars then. He knew without a doubt that they were liars now. A few times, in moments clouded with rage or uncertainty he had held his beloved knife over his wrist, hovering over the mess of scars there until he thought he could hear Paz’s voice whisper to him “ _Gev! Stop!_ ”, which was enough to make him drop the knife until he sobbed because Paz was _dead_ and couldn’t be whispering to him and he was still _helpless_ to his orders. He barely remembered to eat, only doing so out of necessity to keep up his strength as he took on bounties, to provide something even when he didn’t want too. 

The Armourer kept him updated, but he found that he couldn’t talk to her; he only nodded or shook his head in response to her and he wondered, if maybe she had accepted he was lost to them. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he _didn’t care_ that the foundlings were healthy and adapting, that he _didn’t give a rat’s ass_ that there had been others that had survived and found their way back to them, so he listened and resented in silence, accepting that this was his fate. Telling himself that Paz would want to know and then pushing that thought away because Paz should be with them, and he wasn’t. It made him angry and his grounding techniques scarcely worked anymore. On his bounties he had left behind a lot of dead bodies and once upon a time, he would have grieved for them but now he felt nothing. He thought it should scare him, but even when he tried, he just felt empty. 

He had just finished listening to the Armourer tell him that they had decided it would be better for the Covert if only one of them was topside at a time, that there would be safety in their secrecy as they hid underground, and he felt a wave of guilt, as he realised that he was the one they had allowed to be topside, even though he was running from them instead of providing for them. He clicked off the transmission hastily, his hands shaking as he brought them to cup his head in his knees and sighed, long and deep to try and calm himself. 

It didn’t work, and he found himself walking into a beat up, out of the way cantina on a planet he couldn’t even remember the name of when he landed. He ordered himself a shot of spotchka and settled into a booth towards the back, content to drown his guilt with alcohol, under the promise it would make him forget, for at least one night if he just drank _enough._ It was that promise which made him get up and order another two shots, choosing to stay seated at the bar instead of making his way back to his booth. 

“Must be mighty hard to get pissed without taking of the helmet, eh, Mando?” Said the guy next to him, raising his own glass in way of cheers. Din glared at him as much as his helm would allow him, then turned his back, lifted his helm slightly and quickly downed the two shots. The liquid burned his throat, but he told himself that it was good, if that were all he could feel, he would take it. 

The man chuckled at him and ordered him another shot. “Name’s Ranzar Malk: cheers.” He said, as he raised his own glass to his lips and downed whatever amber liquid he was drinking. Din said nothing, didn’t acknowledge the drink waiting on the bar for him and planned to stand up and walk away. “It’s rude to refuse a friendly drink you know, son.” Ranzar told him, his voice chiding him slightly. 

“We aren’t friends.” Din hissed, his throat burning from the alcohol and from his unused vocal cords. He would be embarrassed, but this man didn’t know him, had no idea what his voice should sound like anyway. He didn’t try and mask his disdain for the stranger, when he was younger, the anger he felt had scared him but now he embraced it, let it sweep over him because he had no reason not to. Had no _Paz_ to try and keep in control for anymore. Din felt his anger grow as he thought of Paz, the point of coming here had been to allow himself one night to forget him. 

Din stood up to leave when Ranzar reached out and grabbed his wrist. Without even being aware, Din had twisted his wrist, grabbing Ranzar’s instead and twisting his arm painfully behind his back, holding his knife he couldn’t remember grabbing to his throat as he pushed Ranzar’s face into the bar. “Leave me alone.” He hissed at him, twisting the arm in his hold until he heard Ranzar groan in pain before he let go. Din pushed himself away from the man and once again turned to leave. 

“I can offer you work,” Ranzar groaned, as he rubbed his wrist, frowning slightly at him. “Care for that drink now?” 

“No.” Din replied, walking away, and leaving Ranzar to nurse his bruised ego and pride, while he had to deal with his anger, that he had succumbed to and happily let wash over him. He could have killed him without blinking an eye and was trying to think what had stopped him, when he heard a woman _giggle_ from behind him. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. 

She was a Twi’lek, her skin a shade of purple and her lips bright red. She was dressed in a simple leather outfit and her smile was almost disarming. She carried on laughing as he inspected her. “Men never think no means no, do they?” She laughed again. It was a shrill sound, but it carried lightly in the air; Din relished it, it had been a long time since he had heard anyone laugh. If he shut his eyes, he would remember Paz’s laugh and so he carried on staring at the woman instead. She stated back at him, inspecting him as thoroughly, if not more so, as he had done to her. He watched as she licked her lips hungrily. 

“It’s not every day Ran gets put in his place by a Mandalorian, I must say, it’s rather _hot.”_ She was walking up to him now and Din felt as if he has been glued to the place, helpless to move as he hand came to rest on his chest. She sighed dreamily as her hand touched the cool metal of his beskar. He was unsure of how to proceed. Her fingers reached up towards his helm and suddenly his body was his own again and he grabbed her wrist, before she could reach under and touch his skin, touch his face. She laughed again. 

“Oh, Mando,” she whispered as she grinned, “You don’t even know how attractive you are, do you?” 

Paz growled as he tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled her hand down, away from his face, away from danger. She sighed but it sounded like a moan. Distantly, he remembered Paz calling him beautiful, even when he was wild and he let go of her wrist, as if it had burned him suddenly. 

“Leave me alone.” He hissed at her as she licked her lips at him again. She rubbed her wrist absently, even as she grinned at him. Her smile was dangerous and wicked, and he couldn’t help but think of Paz’s smile, how open and inviting it was, how honest it beamed; this woman’s smile was her weapon, and he was caught in its crosshairs. 

“Take the job offer, I think it’ll be good for you. A good little outlet for all that _anger_ just bubbling beneath the surface.” Her tone was mocking, her smile showing her pointed teeth; she was a predator, and he was her prey. It had been a long time since he had felt cornered and trapped. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, and she kissed where his lips should be under the helm. “Maybe _I_ could be a good _outlet_ too.” 

He swallowed thickly, unsure of his footing in this conversation now, unknowing of how to proceed. He nodded but he was unsure of what he was nodding at, but she smiled at him again, practically purring beneath him before she abruptly pulled away from him and turned towards to cantina, she looked back at him once more and said, “You’re gonna have so much fun with us, Mando. We’ll be here in the morning, see you then.” And walked away, leaving Din left in the street, alone and confused. 

When he found himself in bed that night, he came into his hand with memories of Paz, distorted by red lips and wicked smiles. 

He cried himself to sleep. 


	2. Dar (Gone, temporary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din didn’t view Ran as a parental figure, wouldn’t have classed him even as a buir, not even a friend, really. Ran was his mentor, but that was where their relationship began and ended. There was an unsurprising lack of trust between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din is about 22-23 in this story, not that it's particularly relevant!

Ran had taught him a lot of things in the time that he had spent with him and his crew; he had taught him things that he supposed that his buir would have eventually taught him, had their time together not been cut short. Sometimes, he thought about his birth parents and how they would have tried to protect him from the kinds of things that Ran taught him and he wondered how he would have turned out with them, had war not claimed them first. Din didn’t view Ran as a parental figure, wouldn’t have classed him even as a buir, not even a friend, really. Ran was his mentor, but that was where their relationship began and ended. There was an unsurprising lack of trust between them.

The lesson that Ran had taught him, a few months into Din being a part of the crew, was how to let go of the guilt, and he would forever be indebted to him for it. He still woke violently from nightmares, had almost gutted Qin once when he had walked into his room and didn’t for one second feel bad about it; but these days, he found it easier to just _breathe_ and for him, that had been enough to get him to stay. Sometimes, he was sure that he had almost awoken with a ghost of a smile on his lips. This wasn’t his home, but it was enough.

And then there was Xi’an, who was a mystery to him because she was all dangerous smiles and words but was even deadlier with a knife in her hand. She whispered kind words by his ear but always wore the smile and Din was weary of her, but it didn’t stop him _feeling_ something for her. She sparred with him and never held back, and it was refreshing in a way that fighting hadn’t been since the purge. After one sparring session of theirs had ended with his knife against her throat, she had smiled at him and licked her lips and told him to fuck her, while he was straddling her, with one of his hands wrapped around her wrists, pinning them above her head, and the other holding his knife steady at her throat. All of his instincts had screamed at him to kill her instead, because even now, his body belonged to Paz, but he shut them out and placed his knife back in the holster at his thigh.

She had tried to undress him, but he stopped her wondering hands, and told her in his sharpest voice, “No touching.”. She had pouted but for some reason, she had respected his wishes and just let his hands roam her body, feeling and squeezing her breasts, listening to her moan and whimper below him, as his hands travelled down her body, her body softer than Paz’s but just as deadly. He dipped his hand in her underwear and felt her folds which were already damp, he slipped a finger between them and her hips bucked; she looked up at him impatiently and hissed at him, “Just get on with it, Mando.”. He was always good at following orders, he found himself thinking, as he fucked her selfishly, noticing that he was still dressed, while she was naked and writhing below him. When he came, he found that he didn’t particularly feel _anything_ unlike when he had been with Paz, and he had been blissed out, relaxing under his touch, and feeling safe, protected. She dragged his fingers to her clit and made him rub he until she orgasmed too, glaring at him while she got dressed. She stood at his doorway with one of her wicked smiles, “Next time, Mando, I’ll teach you how to please a woman.” It was a promise, but he found himself not caring whether they fucked again or not.

Over the two years he had spent with Ran and his crew, Din had found himself thinking of Paz less and less; it wasn’t that he had forgotten him, could never forget him and his touches, his kisses, his blind faith that Din was better than them, but it was easier now to simply _not remember_ him. If he let his thoughts linger on Paz, his heart stopped, and his body became on raw nerve ending. If Paz were in his thoughts, he remembered how broken he was, how empty he felt and, on those days, he took Xi’an into his room and fucked her until he passed out, just so that he could feel something that wasn’t Paz under his skin. After they fucked, when he was lying next to her, he compared the two, Paz had always been gentle, even when he marked Din’s skin, where Xi’an pushed him and took what she wanted from him. After the first time, she had never tried to undress him, but she would still slip his cock out of his trousers, sometimes she took him into her mouth and sucked him until he came, others she would jerk him off roughly, almost as if to see if she could get him to break. He wanted to laugh at her sometimes, when she was particularly rough with him, that he was already broken and she would only get cut on his edges; instead, he gripped her hips tightly, bruising them and thrust into her hard enough to make her cry out “Mando!”.

They didn’t know his name, he never told them. Some days, he forgot that he was Din and slipped easily into the Mando persona they had moulded.

Mando was cold, calculated, and unfeeling; he was unbothered by the types of missions the crew went on, if people died, it was only a natural part of life. Din tried not to kill people, he had no issues with droids and would actively go out of his way to hunt them down, but he would never wish to do to people what had been done to him; Mando didn’t stop his crew but he didn’t engage them either, it was a fine line. Din knew he was losing himself to this new identity, but even Mando knew that the road Ran and his crew was walking down, it wouldn’t be long until trouble they weren’t prepared for would find them. He didn’t want to be a part of it.

When the time came, Xi’an looked at him with tears streaming down her face. “Please stay, Mando,” She whispered, as she grabbed his wrist. He stopped and turned to look back at her. “I love you.” She said to him; she looked different when she wasn’t smiling, smaller, _vulnerable_. Her smile wasn’t just her weapon, he realised, it was also her armour. Where he was covered in beskar, hidden away behind his armour, she had learned to use her body language as protection.

“I _love_ you.” She repeated urgently. He laughed at her, though it wasn’t meant to be unkind. Her lip wobbled. “You love me too, I know it.”

“I don’t love anyone.” He snapped at her, he pulled his wrist out of her hold; he was older now, than when they had met, and she no longer had power over him. He was being unkind, he knew, but he wanted to get out and it needed to be now. Qin stood further away, looking at him with hatred in his eyes, Din knew that he had never liked him but now he was hurting his sister, and he supposed that was crossing a line.

She had started shouting things at him then, but he stopped listening and carried on walking back to his ship where Ran was waiting. His arms were crossed against his chest and his eyes were closed. Din knew that Ran was disappointed, Din had been his protégé and now he was leaving, trying to slip out unnoticed without so much as a goodbye.

“I suppose I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” Ran asked him when he opened his eyes to take him in. Din shook his head, it was no use telling Ran that they were running out of time until someone bigger and _badder_ caught up with them, in their eyes, they were invincible. But Din knew the realities of the galaxy better than any of them, there was _always_ someone out there that could take you down and for once in his life, he was running away from it before it caught him, swallowed him, and destroyed another part of his soul.

Ran hadn’t cared to know about his past, just knew from looking at him that he was a survivor, hadn’t cared about what he’d survived or how someone _kept_ surviving. He had just wanted to own the pleasure of having one of the last Mandalorians on his crew. Din supposed that he wasn’t ready to let that ownership go, but Ran had seen how he fought with reckless abandon, Ran had taught him to let go of guilt and so Din had no issues leaving them, he didn’t care about Qin shouting threats at him or Xi’an sobbing behind him.

He shrugged. “No hard feelings.”

Ran reached out and shook his hand, squeezing it harshly. “None whatsoever, Mando.” He said tightly, and then walked away from him without another word. Din walked up the ramp of his ship and turned and watched as Ran wrapped an arm around Xi’an, who turned and sobbed into his chest and found that he felt nothing. He closed the ramp behind him and started prepping his ship for immediate departure.

When he reached hyperspace, he found that for the first time in years, he was relaxed. He was alone. But he was safe.

After all, he was a survivor and no longer needed anyone else.

He still dreamt of Paz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this bit was rushed, but I want to move on from the Xi'an chapter in his life so that we can get on track to Din turning a bit softer again, to the Din we see in the Mandalorian and not this hurt little fluff ball.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and tell me that this is alright! This has been in my head for a while now and it just needed to get out so that I can get the story back to Paz and Din, all those years later.


End file.
